5 Reasons Self-driving Cars Should Be Tested in Arizona

Full disclosure: I want a self-driving car.  And yes, I live in Arizona.  Phoenix, specifically, which is all the more reason to read this post.

My bias aside, I'd like to spend some time making the case for why Arizona should be the test site of the eminent self-driving cars or autonomous vehicles. Many of these reasons make up why I love living here, and why I would be terrified to move to somewhere like California.  

What's more, if anyone is looking for someone to test such cars, please know that I do a lot of travel, both day-to-day and road tripping, and yes, I will definitely sign up to test your self-driving car.

So, without further ado:

1 - Arizona is home to the nicest freeways

I couldn't find any stats on the best marked freeways in the US. (I did find a list of the worst freeways in the US, and can tell you that nothing on the list is in Arizona.  4 of the 5 worst are in California.) Still, I can tell you from personal experience of driving all over the country, Arizona's freeways are wonderful!  The signage is clear and gives you plenty of time to prepare; you always know exactly what lane you have to be in and when.  Autonomous cars will eventually need to get good at discerning bad signs (or have a different / smarter support infrastructure altogether), but for testing, I'd think you'd want to give them a fighting chance at success.   

(Source: http://shareranks.com/6209,Worst-Freeways/Interchanges-in-the-United-States) 

2 - We've got sunshine!

While great signage is a start, its going to be hard for the autonomous vehicles to read them if they can't even see them.  Phoenix is one of the sunniest places in the country, with 211 clear sunny days per year, and 85 partly sunny days, giving us 85% sun year round.  Compare that to 73% sun in LA, 68% sun in San Diego, 66% sun in Tampa, Florida and San Francisco, and the choice is as clear as day (in Arizona).  It's funny, but even when its pouring rain, it can still be bright and sunny in Phoenix, a phenomenon I've never seen outside the state.  And when it does rain, it lasts a very short time and then resumes our usual, beautiful blue skies.

(Source: http://www.currentresults.com/Weather/US/average-annual-sunshine-by-city.php) 

3 - Arizona has less red light runners

Red light running is probably going to be an anomaly that, while still needing to be addressed, will be very difficult to program around for autonomous cars.  Thus, early testing should be done where there are less red light runners to reduce early crashes and truly test the viability and logic of the self-driving car, not how it reacts to anomalies.  When all cars are autonomous, we won't have to worry about this problem.  

One research project classified 55.8% of US drivers as red light runners, while Arizona only had 52% red light runners.  Florida and California both had a higher percentage of red light runners.  The study didn't give specifics on all 50 states, but of the 10 focus states, Arizona had the lowest percentage (12.9%) of responders say they had run a red light at least once in the last 10 intersections. The national average was 19.4%, with California and Florida again being higher than that of Arizona.  California and Florida also had a higher percentage of crashes that resulted in red light running.   

(Source: http://safety.fhwa.dot.gov/intersection/redlight/research/docs/olddomstdy.pdf) 

4 - Strict DUI laws means less drunk drivers in Arizona

Arizona's Sheriff Joe is nothing if not known for his harsh punishments and strict enforcement around driving under the influence.  In 2011, 30% of fatalities on Arizona roads was related to alcohol.  While that number may seem high, compare that to the National average of 36%, California's 34% or Florida's 31%.  Arizona was the state with the 8th lowest percentage of fatalities due to alcohol.  Much like red light runners, drunk drivers are going to add complexity to an already complex system in autonomous cars, so ideal locations are those with low levels of drunk driving to begin testing.  

(Source: http://www.alcoholalert.com/drunk-driving-statistics.html) 

5 - Electronics can't take the heat

While most of my reasons are around creating a favorable environment to test the logic of the self-driving cars, I think it is also important to put the actual equipment to the test.  We have seen Arizona's extreme heat become a problem for electric vehicles that don't have cooling systems for their batteries.  In fact, many Nissan Leaf owners have lost 50% or more of their battery capacity in a matter of months, due to the extreme heat.  Thus, not wanting history to repeat itself, any vehicle relying heavily on electronics should be thoroughly tested in extreme conditions like those found in the Phoenix or Tucson areas of Arizona.  

(Sources: http://www.leafbatteriescanttaketheheat.com/, http://green.autoblog.com/2012/07/18/nissan-responds-to-charges-of-leaf-battery-problems-arizona/) 

I love my extended-range electric car, the Chevy Volt, but it still requires me to do the driving.  That means staying awake and not texting or tweeting or facebooking, and to me, driving is a big time suck.  I would much rather spend my time productively, or dosing off as needed.  If that means being an alert driver while testing an autonomous vehicle, so be it.  I am, in my opinion, a very safe and defensive driver.  I still trust the computer more than I trust my feeble human skills.  So, if anyone is looking for someone to test such cars (wink, wink, Google... nudge, nudge, Mercedes Benz), please know that I do a lot of travel, both day-to-day and road tripping, and yes, I will definitely sign up to test your self-driving car in the best location possible: Phoenix, Arizona.  

How to police self-driving cars

As you know from a previous post, I am a huge advocate of self-driving or autonomous cars.  In short, they would be exponentially safer than a human driving a car, and would free up time for its human passengers to do other activities.  After the question of safety, which I am not going to debate here, the next question is always around the law: who is accountable should a self-driving car have an accident?  I think the difficulty people are having with answering this question is that it is such a foreign concept to us that we can't wrap our brains around it.  Thus, I was inspired to write this post in order to simplify our thinking and perhaps clear the way for future discussions on this topic.  I'm going to make the case that car manufacturers, or more specifically, the company producing and installing the software into autonomous vehicles, should be held responsible for any accidents caused by vehicles using said software.  

Before you get all defensive on me, hear me out.  If a brand new car, driven off the lot, spontaneously explodes and injures the driver and a person in another car, the car manufacturer is at fault.  I think we can agree on that much.  More broadly, a malfunction of an unmodified vehicle that causes harm to someone (or really, had the potential to harm someone) is a product defect and thus the responsibility falls on the car manufacturer.  Of course, a car owner could void this responsibility by tinkering with the vehicle, in which case the car owner would be responsible if he/she created a defect in an otherwise certified safe car.  If another company did the tinkering that lead to the harm, the vehicle owner would hold that company accountable.  All of this is in practice today, and has been for many years.  

Now, let's apply it to autonomous vehicle features, without going fully self-driving.  New (high end) cars have some of these features already.  Yes, you heard me right: mass-produced cars are already doing some of the thinking for us.  Some drivers are already entrusting their lives into the hands of a car that makes its own decisions; and the rest of us are driving on the same roads as those cars.  The primary example I will focus on is the Volvo that stops itself before impact with a large object.  My brother-in-law was so excited when he test drove the car, bragging about how the salesman encouraged him to drive it directly at a brick wall.  Against all intuition, he successfully approached the brick wall at such a speed as to trigger the car to automatically apply the brakes.  Amazing!  Does this excite you?  Or scare you?  And more importantly, what happens if the car's software has a glitch?  One could imagine how a glitch could trigger the car to randomly apply the brakes on the freeway, causing the car behind it to plow into it.  Who is at fault for the cause of the accident?  Sure, the other driver might get a ticket for driving too close to be unable to stop in time, but I would argue that stopping in the middle of the freeway with no reason could be questioned; and its certainly not the Volvo owner's fault, right?  The test drive showed that no matter what the driver is doing, those brakes are going to be applied if that's what the car has decided to do.  Thus, responsibility must be taken out of the driver's hands.  

 

Now let's take a different angle.  Let's suppose that the Volvo driver is suddenly faced with stopped traffic ahead and an out-of-control runaway semi-truck barreling down a hill at him.  The driver, seeing this, attempts to swerve around the stopped traffic, maybe even attempt to hit the guard rail and plow through it, rather than be squashed between a semi and the car in front of him.  Certainly, if the driver is able to rationally see the guard rail as a favorable collision to being squashed, he should be able to maneuver the car in order to do so, and potentially save his life.  If then the Volvo's autonomous braking feature prevents the driver from driving into the guard rail, and he is instead squashed, would there not be a public outcry and lawsuits against Volvo?  

Parking is another aspect we're seeing early autonomy in.  Some features are just park assist features, like guide lines on the camera.  But some cars are actually controlling and manipulating the steering wheel.  If this doesn't scare the nay-sayers, I don't know what it will take to scare them.  Yet parking is one of the most accident-prone parts of driving, because we are dealing with tighter tolerances.  Tighter tolerances is also a good reason to have the computer take over, too, since computers are more precise and accurate than people are.  Regardless of the rationale, there will still be some damage done by an auto parking car eventually, and I am sure that the car manufacturer will be found at fault for this error that could have been prevented by a human driver.  

I'd be willing to bet that, long before our cars drive themselves completely, we'll see at least one such accident go to court and favor the driver.  That court case is going to be crucial in setting the precedent for future autonomous car accidents.  Car companies installing autonomous features have to be ready for this. 

This, in no way, should deter car manufacturers from adding these features to their cars and moving forward with vehicle autonomy.  Smart features that enhance the safety of a vehicle are going to be primarily selling points.  There will be late adopters who will resist, and that's true of all technologies.  But the majority of the population will gradually become comfortable with these features, and the features will become selling points or requirements in future purchasing decisions.  Instead of car manufacturers shirking away from the technology because of the messy legal fears, they need to embrace the responsibility with the added value that can be derived from the features.  This will serve as motivation to ensure utmost safety of their features - glitch-proof, do-no-harm mentality needs to be instilled, while the return on investment will still be positive.

Still, there will be accidents.  Some will be tragedies that would not have happened had a human driver been in control.  And the nay-sayers will point to them being the beginning of the end.  But my bet is that we will see a vast improvement in safety overall: fewer fatal accidents, fewer pedestrian accidents, fewer accidents causing injuries.  Fewer intentional "accidents", too, by the way, caused by road rage and suicidal / homicidal incidents that go unrecorded for lack of evidence.  All across the board, our roads will get safer and safer as more people drive cars with more and more autonomous features.  Autonomous cars are better for the society as a whole, and will greatly reduce the inherent risk of getting into a vehicle.  Let's not forget how fatal driving can be today - we must never forget that.  The most important thing, when there is an accident caused by an autonomous feature, is to collect all the data we can about that accident and prevent it from happening again.  Pioneers of all sorts are often made into sacrifices and martyrs, and I wish just as much as anyone else that this didn't have to be the case with early adopters of the self-driving car, but I know it is bound to happen.  It will happen, we will settle it in court, and we will move on.  

Just Start

Being maybe a little more than a casual writer, I tend to find words flowing from my finger tips often faster than I can type (and often at inconvenient times when I'm not at a keyboard). But I recognize that it doesn't come to everyone as easily. One piece of advice I've heard, and indeed applied to my own experience when facing a bit of writer's block, is to just start writing. It seems too simple, silly even, but it works. Whenever I am not sure how to start a piece, I just start typing; it can be as bad as stream of consciousness if need be. Because we are no longer limited to pieces of paper or typewriters, we can always go back and delete the garbage or edit as needed. The point is that when you start writing (/typing), you get the words flowing and things start coming. Too many times, we are scared of that first sentence or first word, and the anxiety prevents us from thinking past it. By the "just start" methodology, you can go back and fix the zinger at the beginning later, and it gets work down on the (figurative) paper.

I mentioned this very casually in response to my boyfriend's recent anxiety about a placement test he had to take for school. I didn't think much of it at the time, but he came back afterwards and told me emphatically how well it worked. Again, to me, it seems like such a little thing, but it clearly helped him in a much bigger way. I was just grateful that I hadn't held it back for fear of sounding silly or soapbox-y.

With that on the back of my mind, not doing much, I found another application of the "just start" methodolgy. This time, it was in solving Chipotle's Adventurrito Puzzle #4, in which a list of words were to be used to re-create funny Chipotle slogans. While I love me some Chipotle, they weren't immediately coming to me. There's always the easy out of googling the answers once some people started solving the puzzle, but I figured this was one that I had a chance of solving on my own, and I wanted to at least tackle the challenge, if not conquer. So as you may have guessed, I just started to put words into boxes. Themes of words started to emerge, and I grouped the similarly themed words and rearranged them. Before no time, I had all the boxes filled in with answers that made sense. Unfortunately, I nearly had a mental breakdown when the "Submit" button didn't work, a glitch Chipotle remedied shortly after the outcries on Twitter. But the bottom line is that I solved the puzzles, not because I had memorized all Chipotle slogans over the last 20 years, but because I just played with the words until they made sense. I had to start somewhere, so I just started.

With two incidents of the "just start" method popping up back to back, I got to thinking more about what this can be applied to. I am still trying to master the microblog artistry of Twitter; and often I write out all my thoughts first and then shorten them up to fit in the 140 characters. So I guess that again can be considered a "just start" application, since it would be infinitely more difficult for me to come up with the concise message before typing.

One thing I know I do without having previously realized it is, when someone writes a nasty / idiotic email to me, I tend to hit the reply button, then remove all the names in the To field, and write my own nasty response back. My intent is to not send that email, but to get out my frustrations in a draft. Once that is out of my system (and sometimes after a brief walk if its really bad), then I can write a professional, helpful email back.

In fact, almost all tedious, painful tasks that cause us anxiety can be started (and pushed to completion) with the "just start" method. Replacing my toilet over the Fourth of July required me to get into something I had never done before. I did a little reading up on it and watching YouTube videos, but eventually, I figured I just had to start on it and see what help I needed. Nothing can get done if its not started, and I think the starting is the hardest part. Sure, it doesn't help to start things that never get completed, so there is something to be said about perseverance after the start. After "just starting", maybe one needs to get a sense of "just keep swimming" from Dory or "one step at a time," which I've used in training for a half-marathon. But I think a lot of our anxiety is around how to begin. Thus, I think I would modify Nike's slogan "Just do it," to "Just Start," especially when "doing it" seems too difficult to comprehend.

All of my examples thus far have been tactical activities, with tangible results, and I hope you find this advice immensely helpful for such tasks. I think we can dig a little deeper, though. I blogged at the start of my current relationship that I am cautiously nervous about it. But with all the doubts and weird too-good-to-be-true feelings floating around, when Jaiman asked me to be his girlfriend, I took the leap. I let it just start, because I knew that delaying the relationship, which was clearly inevitable, could be detrimental to my and his short-term happiness, in addition to causing more anxiety and insecurity long-term. Looking back at failed relationships, I can definitely see where this anxiety, about starting something new and forgetting the past, tore a number of them apart. I am glad I didn't let it wreck havoc on this relationship, and I hope this realization will prevent me from pushing back in the future.

People linger on the past a lot, some more than others, myself included. I am not sure what draws us to cling to our past so much, but there are times that we must move on. We have this perception that, because "time heals all wounds", our past will gradually fade into distant memory. That may be true, but in my experience, that takes a really, REALLY long time. I would assert that, after some time of mourning, we need to pick a day and say that this is the beginning of the rest of our lives. We need to pick up our past, place it in a memory box and close it, and then put that box on a shelf in the closet. Out of sight, out of mind. We need to once again plan for the future, look forward to upcoming joys, and celebrate what we have.

If it is time to write a new chapter, we need to just start.

Racism and BAD Journalism

I'll be the first to admit that I don't follow the news very well.  I get Breaking News updates and I read my Twitter feeds, and if there's a common theme that is compelling enough, I might choose to spend time checking it out.  The most difficult thing about such a means of digesting news is that by the time I'm jumping in, the news pages dedicated to that specific issue are already way ahead of me and I don't know the premise or the basic facts.  I've found that, for better or for worse, I can get the big picture, from the beginning, most easily from Wikipedia.  

In this way, I finally gave in to reading about the Zimmerman trial.  I skimmed the Wikipedia article, focusing in on the opening statements and the evidence presented.  Based on what I read, I came to the conclusion for myself that it was a move of self-defense.  Now mind you, I don't watch the news on TV, and my breaking news alerts don't have pictures. I saw mention of that awful n- word, but I didn't know the race of either participant.  For all I knew, Zimmerman could have been black and Martin could have been white.  In fact, I had no reason to believe it was the other way around based on the Wikipedia article, because what I read was that Martin was calling Zimmerman the n- word in hateful language, not the other way around.  It was only when, after getting the context of the trial, I started looking at other articles, that I came to realize who was black and who was white, and why it could be made into a racial issue.

So here's my point: from the evidence I've read about, the most objective I think possible, I don't think there is any reason to believe this is or should be a racial issue.  If, and I'm only saying if, the outcome is that Zimmerman is declared innocent, having shot and killed in self-defense, I really, truly wish that we as a united, just country could look at it logically and rationally and accept the outcome.  I say wish instead of hope, because I am certain there will be some level of racially-motivated backlash, so my hope is that the backlash will be minimal, and my wish is that it wouldn't happen at all.  I mean, if we can elect a black President, isn't that enough evidence to say that, as a whole, this country is not racist anymore?  Of course there will still be groups of racist idiots and hate crimes of all sorts, and I will not downplay the severity or horror of those people and events.  But enough people in our country went out to the polls to either say we support a black President (I wish this wasn't even an issue, but I know it exists) or that we support Obama to be President regardless of race (my preference).  I'll be honest, I thought there were too many racists in the country for Obama to gain enough votes; and I personally voted against him because I disagreed with his political position and agreed with his opposition, but that's beside the point.  Even though I was disappointed that my favorite candidate wasn't elected, I was delighted in the fact that America put the first black man in the Oval Office, and that was a big step for our country.  Now, if we can just stop making random issues into race issues when they aren't, we could really be the society we want to be.

I read one opinion piece (and at least it stated it was an opinion piece, which is better than some of the editorial garbage being published as if its fact) that just outraged me.  The author, who was flaunting that she is black and speaking from that perspective, stated that the case is cut and dry: there is one person dead and one person alive, therefore it was an act of racist hatred.  She said that because its a "murder" trial, that the person on trial must be a "murderer" because someone is dead.  By that standard, anytime anyone dies, someone should be hung for murder.  Her reasoning implies that there is never anything such as self-defense, and no such thing as an accident; anytime someone is killed, its because of a vicious, murderous intent and nothing else.  She's basically saying, let's not examine any evidence, there's no need, someone is dead so the other person should serve life in prison.  Let's start a witch hunt, shall we?  Maybe it was sensational journalism to stir up the readers and gain publicity, in which case it probably did its job and I'm not going to help it along by sharing the link or the author's name.  I think its downright idiocy, and writers like that should have their publishing privileges revoked.  

Listen, I am disgusted by how much coverage terrorists and murderers in mass shootings get, and not just because there are so many better things we could be talking about.  I truly believe that messed up people see it as glorification of those crimes, and are thereby encouraged to commit or attempt similar crimes in hopes of making it into the sensational news.  To be clear, my assertion is that there would be less mass shootings and awful people-created tragedies if we didn't honor them with weeks of news stories.  

In that same light, I think that making non-racial issues into racial issues incites more backlash and separates us more.  In fact, even if it was a racial issue, I don't think it should be treated as such.  If someone actually shoots and kills another person with harmful intentions, regardless of the reason why, it is a crime.  Why do we have to classify it as a hate crime?  Why do we have to point out that he/she may have been racist?  When someone dies, that is sad.  When someone intends to kill someone, and succeeds, that is sad.  It's sad that we live in such a world.  It's sad that someone can take another's life so easily.  The color of the injured, wounded skin should be the furthest thing from our minds.  A person dressed like a punk and acting suspiciously could cause a problem, I don't care what color their skin is.  And a man who is attacked and acts in self defense is in his own right, no matter how old he is, if he is armed, or if he is white.  I'm not saying that is what happened; I'm just saying that's a possibility everyone should be open to.  The only alternative version would be that an armed man chased down an unarmed man who he mistook to be bad, and shot and killed him without good reason.  There should not be a version where racism is an issue; I've known racists who never committed murder.  Murder is murder no matter what the motive is, and racism doesn't cause murder.  

Yet, what I have read about this trial indicates that it is already building momentum as a race issue, no thanks to slanted reporters looking to cause a stir to get ratings.  Good, honest journalism seems to go out the window with some reporters when it means driving more traffic, even if it generates negative comments.  I guess the old mantra "no press is bad press" translates to "no traffic is bad traffic".  So taking the extreme view, even if its blatantly wrong, helps the audacious writer to win for all the wrong reasons.  One comment I read says, "If riots break out over the Martin shooting, I hope criminal charges are brought against NBC and its doppleganger, MSNBC, for incitement."  I haven't read a lot of the news stories yet, so I don't know if NBC specifically did report bad news.  Nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment; slanting facts to get people excited or angry should be punished if it leads to any kind of crime or injury.  If NASDAQ can be sued for poorly managing the facebook IPO, journalists should be held accountable for altering facts or presenting them in overly slanted ways.  I don't know if our society is ready to hold journalists to higher standards just yet, but I think it is inevitable in the future.  

On the topic of battling racism, I have to share a story.  I knew a man, dressed in a suit, who was mugged on a prestigious college campus from which he proudly graduated.  Where he was mugged was in an open field, with very little foot traffic, and lots of room to cross the field to get to where a person was going. The three muggers had several piercings among them, and were wearing baggy pants around their knees, boxers showing, hooded sweatshirts and baseball hats sideways.  By anyone's definition, they were dressed like punks.  People dressed like punks aren't inherently bad.  But based on the dress and actions of these three men in particular, I'd go ahead and say they were criminals.  The fact that they were black should have had no bearing on the conversation.  Describing them as black should have been limited to the report to the police in order to help identify suspects.  Here's where racism sneaks into our subconscious: the way the mugging victim, who was white, described the event was that he was "mugged by three black men."  And there it is.  Note, he didn't use the n- word or anything traditionally seen as racist or derogatory.  But he pointed out their race, when it wasn't really necessary to the conversation.  Being mugged is bad on its own, it doesn't matter who mugged you.  Yet, if they had been three white men, then he would have just said he was "mugged by three men," or "mugged by three assholes," or something similar.  What if they were all speaking with, say, an Italian accent?  Would he have said he was "mugged by three Italians"?  I somehow doubt that.  What if they were white women?  Maybe being mugged by the opposite gender would be seen as embarrassing, and the man would have just said, "I was mugged," and leave it at that.  Or, if he assumes or learns that the women were part of a gang, "I was mugged by three gang members."  He certainly wouldn't have said, "I was mugged by three white, female gang members with blonde hair and blue eyes," in normal conversation.  That would just be weird.  Yet it sits okay with most people that he would say, "I was mugged by three black men."  

This is where I think we should focus our energy - not on blowing relationships between individuals of different colors out of proportion, but in how we describe and see events.  Nobody wants to be mugged, and being mugged by a black person isn't better or worse than being mugged by a white person.  He should have just said, "I was mugged," and we'd all feel bad for him and glad that he was ultimately okay.  

I want to clarify that I do believe it is okay to make assumptions about people for our own safety.  If three such men, dressed like punks, were walking directly at me when they had no reason to be walking towards me, I'd be nervous / suspicious, no matter what color their skin was.  That is the natural thing to do; that is acting with self preservation at heart.  Had they been dressed in suits, it would have still been odd that they were walking directly towards me.   

Unfortunately for the victim I am speaking of, he didn't see them coming, so he had no way of profiling them or making good decisions prior to the attack anyways (except, perhaps, not being so distracted that he didn't see them coming).  My point is that profiling based on behavior is a much more powerful thing than looking at race, and yes, I think dress is part of that behavior.  How a man carries himself, how he dresses, and if he seems to have a purpose to what he is doing, are all better indicators of how he might act or if he's potentially a "bad guy" than whether or not he was born to black parents.  I've heard it joked about that if you see a black man in a nice car, you assume he must have stolen it.  That kind of profiling is downright wrong.  But if you see a punk-ass looking kid in a really expensive car, and he is acting nervous, hell, it might be worth acting upon.  

I dare you to think what the media would be saying about the trial at hand if Zimmerman was black and Martin was white.  For the sake of this exercise, if only for the sake of this exercise, let's just assume that all evidence indicates that Zimmerman was acting in self-defense and that Martin viciously attacked him, calling him the n- word.  Would it be portrayed as a victory over racism, because a racist white man attacked a black man and died as a result?  Would the media raise alarm bells about racism in our courts because Zimmerman was clearly innocent, and yet was being accused simply because he was black?  I'd say if you read the facts over again, assuming that Zimmerman was black and Martin was white, and your conclusion changes, then you're creating a race issue that isn't there.  I'm not saying we should ignore race issues, I'm just saying we shouldn't fabricate them.  

We may never know who first hit who in the Zimmerman incident.  We may never know beyond a reasonable doubt that Zimmerman acted purely in self-defense.  It doesn't matter if we do.  This country's justice system says we are innocent until proven guilty.  It is not the responsibility of the accused to prove innocence.  I think our society forgets that sometimes.  I don't want to be a society of witch-hunters.  I want our system to punish what is clearly wrongdoing, and not punish what is not clearly wrongdoing.  That is the only part of our justice system, our media and our culture, which should be black and white.  

News Memory: Let's Keep Journalism Relevant and Accountable

"Where do I buy a newspaper?"  Seriously, I had this debate with myself a few months ago when I was interviewed for an article, and found the article the next morning on the Web.  My Dad recommended I go and buy the corresponding newspaper so that I could keep it, and I considered his suggestion on a couple different levels.  First of all, what would I do with such a newspaper?  It wasn't so significant that I would hang it up in a frame and display it forever, so it would most likely go in a box of mementos from my college days.  Second, was the link enough?  I had shared the article on my facebook and LinkedIn pages that morning, and many of my friends had seen it, read it, and commented it.  I had a hard time deciding what I would even do with a newspaper if I bought it.  Third, where do I even buy a newspaper?  I guessed it would be at a gas station, or maybe a grocery store, but I honestly don't think I've ever bought a newspaper on my own, and couldn't remember the last time I had been with someone else to buy one.  It's just paper, and at the end of the day, it gets recycled because it's obsolete. 

There's no doubt that journalism is changing, and journalists must adapt or be left behind.  News reporting isn't the only industry that has lost jobs to technology, by the way.  Is it possible that technology has allowed a fewer number of journalists to collect and report on the same number of stories?  But we can't look solely at lost jobs to determine what is good and evil.  We must look at the net result, and that is better and more information, which I would argue is invariably a good thing.  While some criticize Wikipedia because "anyone can change it," I have heard it is more accurate than any printed encyclopedia collection, with tons more information, and I believe it.  Have you ever actually tried to change Wikipedia?  It isn't so easy, because they want you to cite sources, and people are reviewing it. 

Nor can we base our judgments solely on the average quality of the product.  I would agree that with more and better information, there is also more junk out there than ever before.  My favorite quote from "The Long Tail" is when Chris Anderson says, “it is when the tools of production are transparent, that we are inspired to create.”  With the ability to publish with greater ease, people do so.  But readers are also becoming more discerning.  As the Internet has become more commonplace, people have developed an ability to filter out, or at least double check, potential garbage.  I believe this is a skill that was lacking in most newspaper readers of 30 years ago.  It was possible to blindly lead people astray because of one news story (reference the radio broadcast "War of the Worlds" in which listeners thought they were tuning in to a real story about aliens).  Now even reputable news sources are questioned, and rightfully so.  Journalists are held to a higher standard, because the audience can now correct, criticize or congratulate them. 

Even more so, I think bloggers and websites have tapped into a need that traditional journalists could not: almost everyone wants to feel like they have a voice, so asking your readers what they think gives them a platform to contribute in ways they couldn't before, while allowing you to moderate as needed.  This makes them feel involved, and keeps them coming back to check other peoples' replies, and see what else they can comment on.  Newspapers are a one-way communication and cannot fulfill this need for interaction. 

So I think it's clear that traditional journalists have to adapt, and that they are now held to higher standards because their readers can correct them.  Those two points being stated, I'd like to mention one of the biggest downfalls, as I see it, of journalists today.  I haven't found a term to describe this phenomenon, so I'll call it news memory.  Muscle memory is used by dancers, martial artists, and the like, to train the body to move in certain, repeatable, predictable ways.  This is generally considered a good thing, but sometimes you have to learn to trick your muscle memory to allow you to move in a different way.  News memory, I think, is always a negative thing.  It is when one big story is followed by dozens of non-stories of a similar theme.  The earthquake in Japan, for example, had devastating ramifications, including the tsunami and the nuclear emergency.  But then every subsequent earthquake in Japan was reported, even though Japan sees hundreds of earthquakes every year.  The same thing happened after Hurricane Katrina, every hurricane was suddenly "breaking news" when it was really just normal weather patterns.  I think every major natural disaster has been followed by copy cat stories that beg the question, "So what?"  It's as if journalists develop news memory by watching for repeats, rather than looking for new, truly newsworthy stories. 

Ladies' Night with Laura

I was having drinks with friends the other night after dance practice, and was reminded of another fantastic story from my single life that I had yet to blog about.  So in the spirit of Throwback Thursday, here's an adventure I got into with my girlfriend, also named Laura.  We always referred to us as a pair as "Double Trouble".  This is perhaps the best example of why.

Nowadays I dance vernacular jazz and Lindy Hop, but back then, I loved club dancing.  Two Red Bull vodkas was all I needed to single-handedly, if need be, get the party started at a club on Mill Ave.  Thursday nights were the best.  Laura and I would meet there, dance with each other, then find some good looking guys to dance on.  I would inevitably be approached by the most foreign person in the room, wanting to make me his wife / queen of his home country.  We'd kiss on boys, shake our booties and break their hearts.  We'd ditch them if they were ugly or unpleasant.  We'd let multiple boys dance on us at the same time.  She had the rockin' body and the careless spirit, I had the exuding confidence and sexy dance moves, and together, we were irresistible to the crowd of people that gathered at those clubs.  

So this one night, we decided to meet there.  I'd rather start around 10:45 or 11 pm, but Laura didn't want to meet until midnight.  So at a quarter til, I headed out.  I got there a few minutes early, parked and headed into the bar.  I waited for a few minutes, groovin' by myself.  Ten minutes passed, then twenty.  Around 12:30, I was approached by a short buy very attractive guy, and he asked if he could buy me a drink.  I agreed, and walked up to the bar with him.  We talked for a little bit; he was an engineering major like me - nice!  I told him that I was waiting for my girlfriend to show up, but she was late.  He told me his guy friend ditched him at some point.  We finished our drinks and I asked him to dance with me.  He agreed, and I guided him by the hand to the dance floor in my most seductive walk, before kicking it into high gear with my moves.  He was clearly enjoying himself, and he held his own; I was impressed.  Around 1:30, Laura finally walked through the door.  Normally, I like to leave before the cops start poking around, so 1:30 is a perfect exit time, but since Laura had just arrived, I figured I'd give her a little bit of my time, even though she was late.  I continued dancing with my short engineer guy, and she found her own admirer, and we danced side by side until the club closed.  

I asked the guy if he wanted my number so he could call me.  He insisted that I come home with him.  I told him I wasn't like that, that I liked him and I'd like to get to know him better before I go home with him.  He gave me some presumptuous speech about how he'd wasted his time with me and how he couldn't believe I wouldn't go home with him.  So I walked away, and went to find Laura.  She was smooching with her new guy friend, leaning up against a twig of a tree.  I waited for a moment to give them their space, and she bid him good night and started heading in my direction.  Just then, another guy approached her, stopped her, and said something that clearly intrigued her.  She talked to him for another minute or two, then signaled to him that she'd be right back.  She jogged up to me and told me she wanted to go with these guys to their apartment for an after party, and she wanted me to go with.  I told her I thought it was a bad idea, but she insisted that she wanted to go, and that she'd prefer that I go with her so we can watch out for each other.  The good friend in me knew I shouldn't let her go home with MULTIPLE guys by herself.  It was too dangerous.  So we walked over to her newest guy friend and his buddies.  They told us that one of the guys was pulling up the car now, and that they'd take us to their place and we'd have a great time.  We stood in a small circle chatting and eyeing each other, while the cops surveyed the area and drunkards stumbled passed us.

Then, I felt a tug on my hand.  I turned, and it was Presumptuous Guy, back for more negotiating in regards to my evening (or rather, early morning) plans.  I asked him if he would please take my number so that we can hang out; I really did think he was interesting, if not too short for my taste.  Who knows where it could have gone, but at least we could have had some fun.  "You're going home with those guys that you just met a minute ago, but you won't come home with me even though we've been dancing and talking all night?"  

"No," I replied, "my girlfriend wants to go with them and I can't let her go alone.  I'm a good friend first and foremost.  You should really take my number, though."  

"I don't want your number, I want you to come home with me," he protested.  He was starting to sound like a little child.  

"Well that's not going to happen, so take my number, or go away."  

He stormed off again.  Fine.  A guy pulled up with the car, and our new friends signaled to us to get in the back seat with them.  It was tight, six of us in a small car, and one of the guys was rather large.  I'll call him Player.  Player was a hefty, tall black man with a deep voice and frightening strength.  He wasn't terrible looking, but he kept models practically for friends.  There was this one, I'll call him Baby Face, who looked like perfection in the form of a man (an oxymoron, I realize, but he looked the part).  He was a white guy, muscular and cut, and he had a smooth, innocent, and irresistible face.  He was the perfect height for me, not impractically tall (although I tend to be drawn to those types) and definitely not short like Presumptuous Guy.  Baby Face let me sit in his lap on the car ride, and we kissed a little, while Laura sat on another guy's lap and kissed him.  What did we get ourselves into?  We drove first to my car, and a couple of the guys got out with Laura and I, and we took my car to their apartment.  

As if that was the craziest part.  Ha!  You'll never believe what happened when we got to the apartment.  But believe it.  There were more guys there, and no other girls in sight.  I started to wonder what was up with these guys, when Baby Face asked me what I'd like to do.  I told him to put on some music.  He signaled to another guy, one who hadn't been in the car with us, and had long black dreads.  I'll call him Jamboree, because I'm pretty sure from his accent and his behavior that he was, in fact, from Jamaica.  Jamboree turned on some music and started singing off-key, "It's ladies night!  Oh yeah it's ladies night!  Oh what a night!"  I was sitting in the middle of a couch by now, and Baby Face was sitting on the table in front of me.  Laura had come to sit on my side, and her boy toy had gone to the kitchen to make drinks.  I told her we shouldn't drink anything they give us in open containers.  Sure enough, two red Dixie cups came out, and we declined.  Laura asked me if I was sure, and I whispered to her that with this many guys around, we do not want to get ourselves drugged.  We'd be better off playing it cool and staying alert.  Baby Face was looking at me restlessly.  Meanwhile Jamboree had come and planted himself on the other seat next to me, and thrown his arm around my shoulders like we were well acquainted.  

I proposed to the guys that they put on a strip show for us.  I expected all sorts of protests or teases, but instead, all I got was compliance.  Baby Face went first, removing his shirt while dancing in front of me.  Then Laura's boy toy took his shirt off in front of her.  Player danced in the background, but didn't do much stripping, which was okay by me.  When there was a pause in the action, I reached over to Laura's boy toy and tugged on his zipper, and he finished removing his shorts.  Laura reached over to Baby Face and returned the favor.  Baby Face and Laura's boy toy were now in nothing but briefs, and man, could they pull them off!  Some of the other guys in the apartment joined in, sitting on the couch next to us, taking their shirts off and stripping into boxers or briefs.  Jamboree, too.  All the while, the guys sang, "It's ladies night!"  Laura and I could not believe our eyes.  

Next came the massages.  I don't recall who proposed it, maybe it was me, maybe it was Laura, maybe it was one of the guys.  Or maybe it just happened.  Details like that got lost in the memory, because the scene was so absolutely mind-blowing.  At least 8 guys, and probably 5 of them smokin' hot, willingly stripping for two girls they had just met, for free, dancing around, and sharing us with one another like this was a perfectly natural thing to do.  I mean, it was hotty hot hot!  And before I knew it, my feet were being sensually massaged by Jamboree, while Baby Face rubbed my neck and Player rubbed my shoulders.  Laura had three of her own simultaneous masseuses.  The other two or three guys put on a show for us, dancing, strip teasing, and, well, stripping.  It was warm in the apartment, warm with body heat.  I could just imagine waking up to the smell of sex in that sticky, warm place.  

Player took center stage with some dancing of his own again, while Baby Face went to get something and another guy sat where Jamboree had been sitting.  He too put his arm around me, and pulled my chin towards him for a kiss.  I complied for a few moments before pulling away to watch Player some more.  Laura joined her boy toy on the other couch, sitting on his lap and watching the show, kissing him intermittently.  Jamboree was now rubbing my legs, and would come close for a kiss from time to time.  Baby Face returned and took Laura's seat next to me, sliding his arm behind my lower back, and kissed me.  He was delicious, and I could have kissed him all night.  I might have.  Watching Player, I sized him up, and he was definitely strong.  I could picture him holding us down, forcing himself on us.  He would be hard to fight.  I've gotten myself into scary situations before, and I always have a plan to get out, but I wasn't sure if I could fight him off if he had decided to pull something.  

It was 5:30 am when Laura gave me the look that it was time to go.  Nothing had gone wrong; in fact, we were still waiting for something bad to happen, and it never did.  But I think her and I were thinking the same thing: this is too good to be true, better leave before it goes bad.  We grabbed each others hands affectionately, throwing a little girl-on-girl tease to the guys, and congregated in the kitchen for a girl meeting.  We decided it was definitely time to go, although we were having a complete blast.  Laura asked if we should leave our numbers, and I thought that was a good idea.  Who wouldn't want to come back to this Siren Island?  Then I suggested that we only leave one of our numbers, and just write "Laura" on it.  She giggled and said it should be me.  So I wrote my number on a piece of paper with our name on it, and used a magnet to stick it to the refrigerator.  The guys had left us alone up until that point, but then Baby Face came to see what we were up to.  I told him we were leaving, not mentioning the number I had sneakily placed on the fridge.  We made out, hands groping for a few moments, meanwhile Laura had gone to kiss her boy toy good night.  We kissed a few of the others good night, too.  None of them really protested except Baby Face and Player.  Laura and I grabbed each other's hands again and walked through the door.  As soon as we cleared it, we looked at each other with the wildest grins and started cracking up.  "Can you believe that just happened?"  

Then we heard a voice from behind us calling after us.  It was Baby Face, still in nothing but his briefs, walking slowly towards us, signaling for us to come back.  I was embarassed for him.  Maybe embarassed is not the right word, he had a perfect body, so there was nothing to be embarassed of, per se.  But he was now walking about in a public place where anyone could see him, and he was very exposed.  I ran to him to cover him up with my own body, and told him he'd get in trouble.  He said he didn't care, and pulled down his underwear to his ankels, exposing himself completely now.  He kissed me and asked for us to come back, saying that we were all having so much fun and he didn't want us to leave.  I told him it was time to go, and kissed him one more time, then spanked his bare behind and bid him good night.  He turned away and went back inside, underwear in hand.  I wasn't sure if I'd regret leaving him, but I figured, they had a way to find us, if and when they found the number, and if it was meant to be, we'd be together again.  

I jogged back up to Laura, and we linked arms and ran for it before another one came to get us, laughing harder now at the fact that Baby Face had stripped completely, out in public.  "It's ladies night!" we repeated in our best manly voices.  We got to my car and I drove us to Laura's car, all the while laughing and talking about what just happened.  When I stopped, we hugged, and Laura made me promise to let her know if I got a call or text from the guys.  

It didn't take long.  Laura and I were both sitting at a red light in our own cars, when I got a text.  It was Jamboree, asking which Laura was I.  I rolled down my window and told Laura.  We laughed, the light turned green and we parted ways shortly after.  I texted with Jamboree when I got home, and I got another text, this time from Player.  But Player didn't say who he was outright; I wanted for him to be Baby Face so bad, but I eventually sorted it out.  

Jamboree and I texted multiple times, as did Player and I.  I even let Player come over one time, under the pretense of helping me with the plumbing problem I was working on.  Player and I had had some fights via text already; he was very pushy and entitled, not terribly unlike Presumptuous Guy.  But Player was so vulgar, I had to tell him off multiple times, and he would eventually apologize.  Things made a little more sense when he told me he was a college football player.  He hadn't played for ASU, but he had played for a school in California; I was able to look him up and verify.  His football picture had an ugly scowl, and my girlfriend Rachel cautioned me about that look.  When he came over and it turned out he knew nothing about plumbing, I was frustrated with him to say the least, but I decided to make the best of it.  My sister had loaned me a movie, Nights in Rodanthe, and I was not looking forward to watching it.  So I thought I'd torment Player by making him watch it with me.  We ended up really bonding during that movie, because we were both in tears from laughing so hard and mocking the movie.  It wasn't a bad time.  I could have grown close to him, if he'd keep his mouth clean and stop being an ass.  I snuggled with him and let him kiss me just a little.  Then I kicked him out because I really had to work on my plumbing.  A few weeks later I got a text from him saying in no uncertain terms that his agent just delivered the fantastic news that he would likely be in the second round draft for the NFL.  His texts exclaimed that he was so happy, all he wanted to do was see me, drink and have sex.  He said he wanted me there with him to enjoy it, and wanted me to go with him wherever the NFL took him.  I seriously had my doubts that any of this was true, but a very small part of me took pleasure in imagining myself as an NFL wifey; even tied to him, I could make myself very happy.  But I'm not dumb, and I was not about to give it up based on his texts.  I told him how thrilled I was for him, but that I couldn't possibly go out with him tonight, and that I would love to see him that weekend.  I had class during the day of the draft, but I watched the news and checked online when I could for glimpses of the draft, looking for Player's name.  It never came up.  And I think he knew his gig with me was up, then, because I never heard from him again.  

Jamboree, Baby Face, Player, Laura's boy toy, even Presumptuous Guy, and all the others whom I didn't even get to know, made that night one of the most remarkable, you-can't-make-this-stuff-up kind of unbelievable, and hilarious nights of my life.  It's impossible to know how else that night could have gone, what would have happened if we had stayed, and it's a little sad that it had to come to an end, but I will never forget Ladies' Night with Laura.  

The Midget Saga - Part 2

It was St. Patrick's Day, and I showed up to kenpo.  The Midget informed me that he was Irish, like a leprechaun.  

Eager Beaver had played a cruel trick on me, known as the Naked Man.  I didn't know what it was called until years later when I met a sexy ballet dancer at a club, and he told me about it.  He laughed when I told him I had fallen for it with a previous guy.  The Naked Man essentially works like this: the guy appears to you suddenly, completely naked, and it makes you feel so bad for him that you give in.  Regardless, the Naked Man worked on me, and I was now involved with Eager Beaver.  I wasn't his girlfriend, I made that clear.  I was using him, and he didn't seem to mind.  It was an awkward routine, because The Midget was Eager Beaver's ride, so The Midget came on every date, every double date, and every time I just wanted to hang out.  One time, I asked if The Midget could not come, and Eager Beaver informed me that I made him cry.  

I made The Midget cry.  

Ah well.  

Having the Midget around was a very odd thing. He was socially a bit awkward, although surprisingly not as bad as Eager Beaver. It was awful, though, when the Midget tried to force himself upon me. Literally, he'd get up on the couch and leap at me, trying to plant his face into motorboating position on my chest, even if temporarily. Words cannot describe the images that haunt me to this day, the Midget flying at me like a crazed bat, or a flying squirrel perhaps.

On St. Patrick's Day, we had kenpo, and the Midget saw it necessary to inform me that he was Irish. Like a leprechaun. I'm telling you, I can't make this stuff up!

Eager Beaver started getting on my nerves. He was useless and idiotic enough, and his attachment to the Midget made it all the worse. I told Eager Beaver that the Midget was not invited to a double date with Karen and The Beast. Eager Beaver informed me that I had made the Midget cry again. Wah, wah, wah.

The only reason I allowed this charade to go on for so long was because of how good Eager Beaver was in bed. Ever since he played the Naked Man on me, I was hooked.

I started to sever the link between getting laid and dealing with the flying Midget. It was a triumphant victory when I figured out how to navigate around the short stop to get to home base. So naturally, it was time to find a new game. One of Karen's fantasies was to be tied up with a kenpo black belt's black belt. Little did I know at the time, she was banging her boss, the black belt, and who knows what else was transpiring within that activity? Anyways, since I was a bit more public with my black belt, I went ahead and pursued her fantasy.

I'm not sure if Eager Beaver was really just forgetful, or if his mom had such a tight grip on his life that he feared getting caught, or if there was something else preventing him from wanting to bring it, like respect for the martial arts. Regardless, weeks went by during which I nagged him to bring his black belt, and he didn't. Then I had to go away on a trip, and Eager Beaver was sad about it. I told him, when I come back, he needs to make it up to me. I was going to be tied up with that black belt.

When my plane landed back in Phoenix, I texted him to get ready for me. That was when the unimaginable happened: He. Got. Grounded. Grounded? 23 years old. Really, grounded? You've got to be kidding me, you're kidding right? No, apparently he had lied to his mom and was thus grounded. Grounded.

That was definitely the beginning of the end. I was not going to stay fuck buddies with a guy whose mom treats him like a 14 year old. He acts like it, don't get me wrong, but that's just not a situation I can handle. I did get tied up with the black belt a week later, and that was about it.

Meanwhile, the Midget was moving on from me, which was a giant-sized relief. We still saw each other at kenpo, and that's where I learned about what follows.

Eager Beaver set up his ex-girlfriend with the Midget. The Midget was so excited to be texting with her. He showed me a picture of her, she was a cow. Regardless, I was happy for him, he was crushing hard and had the potential to get laid.  

About a week went by, and I hadn't heard anything about it, so I went the less direct route and asked Eager Beaver.  The story he gave me is another one of those I-can't-make-this-stuff-up scenarios.  You have been warned.  

I asked Eager Beaver if the Midget had, indeed, had sex with Eager Beaver's ex.  Eager Beaver's response was, "Kinda."  Now, there are times that are appropriate to say kinda, but I feel that in talking about sex, it's very much black and white.  Obviously, I needed more information, so I pressed on, carefully.  He proceeded to make reference to a vacuum with no suction power, which I didn't understand one bit.  And then he ended with, perhaps, the cherry on the top: "And the condom kept falling off, because it was too big..."  

And there you have it.  Around this time, I decided to call the whole thing off and cut Eager Beaver and the Midget out of my life forever.